Quests Left Undone
by MsJadeSilver
Summary: The dragons have returned to Tamriel, and a young thief travels across skyrim to find out why. With a dark past and a bleak future, how far will Shay go to discover what she is, and why the sight of blood sends shivers down her spine. F/Dragonborn, GameSpoiler Warning, Rated M for descriptions of Gore, Sex and Violence. Read at your own risk, comments welcome.
1. Chapter One

It's much too dark for sight, the air is cold, and the wind chills my very bones. But my heart beats harshly, a distant drum deep within my chest, begging, screaming for me to finish the job. The warm fire can be seen from the open window, a foul mistake for a citizen to make, especially on this night. I peer in through the well-lit crack to spy a couple in their fur-lined bed, sleeping soundly, their small child in a miniature duplicate bed not ten feet from theirs, snoring lightly. There was a bruise planted on his face, a strong hand had struck him tonight.

_Simple_. Aside from the guard animal they have placed beside their door. His slobbering maw is gaping at me, his tongue hanging from his mouth, drool dripping like a faucet onto the wood porch. I gaze into his unknowing eyes, and reach to pet him, he accepts the gesture gladly._ Stupid people_. There is no point in having a guard dog when it has been taught to love humans, and treat them as master. His face is friendly and loyal, he presses his face lovingly into my hand. I almost consider leaving without including him as a casualty. No, he will have to be dealt with. There is never a reason to leave the job undone.

Quickly, I grip his mangled, filthy scruff and slice my blade through his neck, surprise leaps into his eyes, but soft gurgles from his gaping wound reveal that his pain will be over in moments. Laying him down onto the porch, his blood pools around his still-twitching body, soaking the wood with a crimson varnish, and my heart only beats quicker, the time is near. His death is only the first tonight, and time cannot be spared relishing an easy victory.

Abandoning the canine corpse at the door, I pick the lock and slip in. The bolt has been greased recently, the owners probably grew tired of the horrible creaking noise it made when they opened and closed the door. _How wonderfully simple._ I viewed the beautiful intricacies of the door frame, it held the family's name and carvings of various contract had said he was a carpenter, and it showed by the way the house looked on the inside, and the outside. The floorboards were sturdy and well-placed, I marveled as to why not a creak could be heard as I padded my way over to his bedside table. I wiped the dog's blood from my dagger with one of the shirts he kept in the drawers, readying it for a new victim. He wouldn't be needing it after tonight anyway.

The bed was made with fine wood, he probably cut the tree down himself by the way he was built, he was a massive nord, muscles crowned his lightly heavyset body. He slept on his back, his throat was cleanly shaven and open for my blade. My hand twitched as I ran my hand over the cold ebony blade, it's hunger, and mine burning holes into the backs of my eyes.

Slowly, I inch the blade to glide over his throat, and rest the edge on the pulsing artery on the other side. My chest aches from how much my heart pounds, I wonder if he would be able to hear it if he was awake. My blade bounces, matching the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat. I tightly grip the leather binds on the handle and slash the sharpened blade across his thick neck, and his eyes burst open, much like the gash in his throat. The gurgling noises he makes rouse his wife, but she does not recognize the sound and shoves her face down into the furs, irritated. I can't help but let a smile cross my face as his body struggles for a moment, until he becomes still, his dark blue eyes slowly losing their light, until they are glazed over with the presence of death. My heart stops as I enjoy the scene in front of me, my stomach churns delightfully as his blood seeps onto her side of the bed, waking his sleeping spouse yet again.

"Wh… what" I whip my blade into her throat just as I had done with the man and his dog, she sluggishly turns to meet her mate, tears well in her eyes as she clings to her departed husband, her life-blood and his blending wonderfully between them. I let out the breath I had been holding all this time, the heavy, rusty scent of blood floods my nostrils as I replace the air in my famished lungs. I only get a moment to clean my blade again on the wench's lifeless body before I remember the small child in the bed across the room.

She is resting on her side, she has her tiny arms wrapped around a small, handmade carving of a bear, most likely a gift from her father. I glance back at the dead couple that lie soaked in their bed, then back at the sleeping girl.

"You're lucky, child." I leave a small satchel filled with food and gold I had procured for this particular child, just as Mother had requested, along with a note containing a small rhyme.

Sweet child of the newly dead

Awaken to a world of red

Take arms beside your darkest brother

In time, return

To your Night Mother

I smiled, knowing the fear that would envelop the child when she woke to the smell. The smell I had woken up to twenty years ago in a house not unlike this one. Then I left as quietly as I had come, noticing the sun begin to rise. I waited in a nearby grove for an hour, time went slowly as the scent from the house grew stronger.

When I heard the blood-curdling scream, I went on my way.


	2. Chapter Two

_Ten years later..._

"Bryn! Your little princess killed her mark again!" Vex's hissing voice echoing through the cistern. I felt myself duck my head, for I had failed my duties, and was really upset and ashamed of myself. Vex's screaming drew the attention of everyone in the cistern, possibly even the Flagon next door, but this was not news to them after my previous mistake.

"Lass..." Brynjolf had been my mentor since I arrived in Skyrim all those years ago, and I had been doing my best to stay true to his teachings. I was a thief, not a bandit... Yet the feeling of taking a life with my blade felt... well, not as wrong as everyone made it seem.

"I know." I huffed, Brynjolf's brows furrowed angrily.

"No, I really don't think you do. This has been the third time you've killed a mark, at least that we know of, and you know that this is not how we do business." Brynjolf's tone slowly grew sad. His brow softened.

"Mercer... says you have one last chance. There's an imperial carriage traveling to the outskirts of Skyrim, delivering expensive armor, weapons, and gold. I need you to intercept that carriage and take the goods back into Skyrim, and back here. And... no killing. I need you to stave your hand this time, lass. I don't want to have to... banish you." I would have said something then, but the tired, almost teary look in my mentor's eyes stopped me dead.

"I really couldn't handle losing you, Shay. You've been... Like a younger sister to me." My heart sank. I had never really been one to express myself, even to Bryn. Since I was a kid, growing up in the Riften orphanage, then escaping, I found myself becoming distant from everyone else, never sharing a laugh, nor shedding a tear. Not until Brynjolf found me and taught me the trade, I had always looked up to him, like he had said, he was my big brother too.

"I know, Bryn. I won't muck it up this time. No killing." I handed Brynjolf my blade. Bryn tried to hand it back, but I didn't accept. "I can't take it. I don't want to even think about it, and I can't make a mistake if there is nothing to make it with." Brynjolf nodded and went on his way to the other side of the cistern. He didn't look back.

I lost no time, packed a few supplies and made my way to the Ratway, Vex hissing as I walked past her. I sneered in her direction and quietly slipped through the door.

"Would you like to buy some cheap mead?" An elf walked by trying to sell his boss's stolen mead on the cheap, I spat in his direction, I would have none of it, I grit my teeth as I passed the elf, Maven would surely kill him eventually.

I knew the secrets held between Maven Black-Briar and the Guild, that though she acted as advisor to the Jarl of Riften, she also helped lead the Band of thieves she had promised to exterminate. I didn't really have an opinion about Maven, well none that I shared openly. I supposed that deep down, perhaps she was just as fucked up as I was on the inside. Maybe it wasn't fear of death that kept me from buying the mead, maybe it was a sick mixture of pity and respect that I held special, just for her.

As I left Riften, I couldn't help but feel a wave of emotion sweep over me. The place I had called my home for so many years could be one fatal stab away from lost to me. I wish Bryn could understand. I wish he could understand my starving need to leave someone broken and bloody, to let my blade taste someone's flesh. I had hunted with my father when I was young, the smell of blood wasn't unknown to me, but animals were never enough. Even then, as a child, the animal's dying breath didn't sate my thirst.

Vex caught me in my first blunder. My first kill. We were on a job, stealing jewelry and fine clothes in some posh house in Solitude. Nothing out of the ordinary. Until the owner showed up and caught me rifling through his safe, he shouted and threatened to call the guard. I didn't know what to do, I was scared of going to prison, and scared of being caught. So I shoved my blade into his throat. I stood there, watching him die, and a cool rush went through my body like a dam breaking. The way his blood gushed from his open neck, the way he choked on his own blood as it dripped from his mouth, the way his eyes faded in front of me before I let him drop to the floor.

It would have been wonderful, if Vex hadn't have been with me. She screamed, something about 'me smiling about a mark's death, you freak!' I had even reached up to touch my face. There was indeed a great smile on my lips.

When Bryn heard about the killing from Vex, he looked at me no differently. He actually walked over and hugged me, telling me it had probably been a terrible experience. By then, he didn't know about my mother and father. The next time it happened, Vipir had told Bryn about the killing, and I told him everything. When he still didn't seem to change his opinion about me, I was surprised. But glad. He stood by me every time I faltered from the path, every time I wanted to kill.

But I failed him again. I killed the young man in the courtyard, with no intention of even approaching him. I hadn't felt my blade on anyone in such a long time… it… burst out of me. His neck was exposed, his flesh so tempting and clean, not a scar... It was much more beautiful with one. He must have only been twenty when I killed him, but I have no doubt in my mind that he would be a dashing young corpse, lost amongst the older, dryer nords in the Hall of the Dead.

I had been walking for what seemed like forever when I finally reached the carriage. I was far from my homeland, but I knew the proper place to rob this carriage blind would be just inside of Skyrim. If I did it here, I would be caught for sure. I followed the carriage back to Skyrim for days, waiting at a distance before it passed through the gates. Staying at the inns and sneaking around the backs of houses to stay warm in the cold. But when I reached the gates, it all fell apart.

There was a big commotion, stormcloaks and imperials fighting… I could see blood and the demon within me lunged at the chance for battle. I fought it, but not before sending me to the middle of their fight. I shouted for them to stop, but a sharp strike to the back of my head sent me to the ground. I wasn't even awake long enough to feel the dirt on my cheek.

* * *

I lifted my aching head, the heavy clops of a horse were deafening to my waking ears. I blinked dizzily, a soft groan leaving my lips.

"Hey you, you're finally awake." A large nord sat, bound as I was, He had thick, dirty yellow locks and a strong Nordic jaw. "You were caught trying to cross the border, right?" He spoke loudly, my head was ringing, making me stare blankly back at him while he spoke. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." The nord motioned to the dark haired lad to his right, who spat on the carriage floor, angry.

"Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along… Empire was nice and lazy… If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell… You there" The dark haired nord turned to face me. I tilted my head to the side, then saw a trickle of blood on the side of my face. "We shouldn't be here! It's these Stormcloaks that the empire wants!" his voice was hoarse and winded, he had probably been cursing and shouting the whole time I had been out. For the life of me, I couldn't remember what the hell had happened before the blow to the head I had received earlier, or why someone felt the need to strike me. Had I been with the stormcloaks, or was just a passerby who got mixed up into a war? The strong nord in front of me shook his head.

"We are all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The carriage driver growled and shouted back at us to shut up, he was wearing imperial armor. This sounded like a final warning, but the thief didn't shut it. He glanced over beside me. "What's his problem?" He blurted. I looked over to see a golden-haired nord with a gag over his mouth. His gaze was far from defeated, but I could tell he was tired. The strong nord's brows went down with fury.

"You watch your tongue! This is Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" He shouted, protecting the honor of his leader.

"Ulfric Stormcloak? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion…. But wait… If they've caught you… oh gods! Where are they taking us?" the dark haired nord visibly shook with fear. The blonde nord hung his head by his shoulders.

"I don't know where they are taking us… but Sovngarde awaits…"


	3. Chapter 3

Death. That's why they had brought us here in the carriage; it was easy to see since the first man to run, the dark-haired thief, was shot with no hesitation as he tried to escape. Staring down at the severed head of the stormcloak soldier that had gone to Sovngarde just moments before, and feeling his warm blood coat my cheek as I was tossed onto the block, it was clear that it didn't matter to them who I was, or whether or not I deserved to die. The kinder man seemed to be upset with the captain's decision to send me to the block, since I had no idea who I was or why I was crossing the border in the first place after the blow to the head, but the woman only assumed the worst of me and sent me to my death.

The spilled blood grew cold on my face as a thunderous sound pierced the air, and in my last moments I wished for rain, if only to see it one last time. The headsman raised his huge axe to cut short my prayers for sweeter weather, but as he moved to sever my head from my body, a great demon landed on the tower behind him and shouted him away. Storms swirled around me as I was cast aside to the ground.

I don't remember much after that besides following one of my fellow prisoners to safety, and the fire. The black dragon spouted rivers of fire through its maw as I huddled in a broken tower with a few Stormcloak soldiers and their leader, Ulfric Stormcloak. His loud voice boomed through the air, giving level headed orders as the dragon smashed through the stairway of the tower, breathing fire on some unfortunate soul.

Gods… the smell of his flesh. I will never forget that horrid smell for as long as I live. It drowned out the rest of the world until I was taken into Helgen, away from the slaughter.

"Hey there." The voice of the stormcloak soldier I had followed woke me from my trance. I looked up at him from the spot I suppose I had dropped to once we had reached safety a few minutes ago. As dire as the situation seemed to be, I guess he knew that I would need a moment to go over what had just transpired outside.

"Hello." My greeting was weak and unfeeling as I broke free of my blank stare and actually looked upon the face of my stormcloak savior. To my surprise, it seemed I had been following the very same man who had been sitting bound across from me in the carriage earlier, Ralof.

"Come here; let me get those bindings off you… Damn it. I should have gotten them off earlier…" He grumbled to himself as he sawed through the biting rope that tied my wrists together.

"We need to get out of here, now." My voice waivered a bit as I spoke, I stood quickly and stretched my arms. An unpleasant sting came from my raw wrists and I stopped my movements. Ralof bent down to the dead body of a soldier and said a small prayer, Gunnar, his name was. He began removing the man's armor and gingerly handed them to me, egging me to put them on, there was a dragon around anyway, and who knows what other things could be out for them in an Imperial prison? He respectively turned around to let me change and searched the room for a place to get out. The metal gate was locked, and the only way out that didn't lead to the fiery death outside was through there.

"Alright, now what?" I asked, he tossed an axe my way and I caught it with little finesse, fumbling terribly with it and almost slicing my hand open with the blade.

"Hold tight to the handle, not the blade." Ralof said, giving me a look of intrigue. "Would you like to practice a bit? Hack the air a bit, give yourself a little practice." He said, his patience with me seemed unending. Lucky me.

"I'm sure I'll get it. I'm… just a bit shaken." I admitted quietly, holding the axe like it was designed to be held. He rested a calloused hand on my shoulder and gave me an understanding nod. His reassuring gesture was cut short, two imperial guardsmen clamored through the halls toward the gate. Ralof pulled me back and took cover, and I followed his lead. As soon as the two opened the gate, they started swinging at us. My ally attacked, taking turns clashing swords with his enemy while the other leapt at me.

"Stormcloak scum!" He shouted angrily, grabbing my hair and twisting it around his fist painfully. He had a clear shot at my neck and gave a neat swipe from his sword at it. I quickly ducked under the swing and dug my nails into his wrist to release myself from his grip, and chopped at his side. His thin armor did little to fend off the blow, and soon he found my axe buried in his flesh. The scent of blood rushed into my nose and I trembled at the feeling. The light left his eyes as he sunk to the floor, his helmet falling off as his head lolled lifelessly to the side.

"You all right?" Ralof was standing over the body of his defeated foe, staring at me, though I wasn't really focusing on him. My sights were set on the man who was slain by my own hand. My bloodied hand… the blood…

"I killed him…" A rush surged through my body, and it was hard to stifle the grin that threatened to rise on my face, and I soon failed. Ralof stared at me for a moment before walking over and giving me a pat on the shoulder.

"Don't look too happy now, might creep somebody out, eh?" He said, and I nodded.

"I guess I'm just happy I didn't get my head cut off." I stated, and he broke out into a grin himself.

"Yeah, you did great! It's a good idea to just put the dead out of your mind as well, okay?" He said, giving me a squeeze on the arm before snagging some keys from the dead guard and unlocking the gate.

"Let's go, there will be more, so be ready."


End file.
